Malevolent Reflection
by Stirling Phoenix
Summary: SouMako/MakoSou. AU. Slight Yandere!Makoto. Makoto is lost, with nowhere else to go. Just when he's about to end his painful existence once and for all, he's stopped by the most unlikely of people. It seems that fate has other, more malicious plans for both him, and the soul of his deceased lover, Sousuke.
1. Chapter 1

Malevolent Reflection

Pairing: Yamazaki Sousuke/Tachibana Makoto

Rating: R (M)

Content Warning: Attempted Suicide

Partially inspired by the 'Insidious' franchise.

* * *

The light reflects off the knife's blade, giving the edge a notable gleaming appearance which only serves to attract Makoto even more. He watches the glistening dagger with a growing fascination, idly wondering if he could bear to sully such precious silver with his own blood. Not that his dear friends would ever let it happen, but if by chance he were to be left alone for long enough, the crimson liquid would surely corrode and damage what should be a fine piece of high quality cutlery.

He's standing in his small apartment bathroom, in front of a mirror that he hasn't even spared a single glance to since he walked in. The door is locked, although anyone who wants inside badly enough can easily break the old doorknob that's one forceful push away from falling off. Yes, some unfortunate soul will definitely find him before his blood has had enough time to permanently ruin the knife. He's sure of it.

This didn't happen to him overnight; it has taken several, long, excruciatingly painful months for Makoto to come to this point. The original idea, although a spur of the moment kind of thing, was quickly taken up and nurtured by the growing sickness in his mind. That little inkling of thought should have disappeared just as quickly as it had come into existence, but instead, it festered and grew within the deepest, darkest depths of Makoto's psyche, and soon mutated and clawed its way to the forefront of his mind, becoming an immediate and all-encompassing fixation.

This obsession which has now manifested itself into the ultimate 'life changing' decision terrifies Makoto. The uncertainty lingers like a dark shadow that constantly whispers to him, telling him it's not going to work, his love is gone, and he will never be reunited with him, even if he goes through with this.

His fear is omnipresent and unyielding; it all but screams at him to turn back, to seek help. He has friends after all, friends who would move Heaven and Earth if he so much as implied that he might need the slightest bit of help. But despite himself and the friends that are starting to fade away from his clouded mind, the desire, no, the simple, yet urgent and ineffable need to have the man he lost much too soon overwhelms and thoroughly abolishes everything else he has in this world. The decision consumes him, leaving him with nowhere else to go.

Makoto continues to watch the blade with a sense of morbid enchantment; it occurs to him that he does not know what he's waiting for. Certainly not for anyone to walk in on him-the last thing he wants is for someone to ruin this chance, to take his one shot at being happy again. Because he knows, if he's caught, it's over. He might be able to talk his friends and family out of sending him somewhere, but the freedom he has now would cease to exist. Twenty-four hour supervision and an existence akin to what he dramatically refers to as 'prison' would become his one and only way of life, a life that he clearly doesn't want anymore.

There is nothing left to think about, nothing left to decide or figure out. He's doing this; it's his one and only opportunity to be with his beloved once more. There isn't a trace of hesitancy in his fluent motions as he takes a hold of the dagger with his right hand and readily holds his left arm out in front of him, with his wrist clearly displayed.

Every voice that begs him to reconsider-they sound like his friends'-is suddenly overpowered by his desire, and coupled with the thought that he will soon be with him again, after all this time. He's done with waiting, and he's ready to end it all and await for death's sweet, merciful, embrace.

Makoto watches his actions with glossed-over and unseeing eyes; the blade now hovers mere centimeters above the ulnar artery in his wrist. He can't see it of course, but he's studied enough anatomy over the years to know exactly where to cut. With his mind made up and having nothing left to lose, he brings the knife down, ready to end it all.

"Stop!"

That voice, Makoto recognizes that voice, although he cannot remember the last time he's heard it. The tone is strong and commanding, it sends a frigid shiver down Makoto's spine, freezing him to the core, and leaving him with no other option but to listen. The blade stops just before its sharp tip is about to pierce his skin.

His gaze shifts upwards, forcing him to look at what should have been his very own reflection. However, a small, twisted shred of fate decides to smile down upon him that day, and Makoto sees the one man he had been so sure that he would never see in this life again.

"Sousuke." His voice is barely above a whisper, and even now he can't believe it to be real.

The entity in the mirror that has taken the place of his reflection, Sousuke, simply smiles back at Makoto. His aquamarine eyes are full of love and adoration, just as Makoto remembers.

"I'm here."

At that moment, every last ounce of tension in Makoto's body fades away. The knife falls to the floor, left to be forgotten.

* * *

To Be Continued...

Thank you for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

Malevolent Reflection

Pairing: SouMako/MakoSou

Rating: R (M)

Chapter 2

Content Warning: Suicide Mention

* * *

"Sousuke…"

By now, Makoto has lost count of how many times he's whispered that name. It seems like he's been staring at Sousuke's image in the mirror for just a few moments, but if the sunlight that is currently peeking in from behind the lowered blinds of the small, peculiarly placed window is anything to go by, he has actually been standing there for several hours. The look of pure bewilderment is still present; however the disbelief is slowly starting to ebb away from his features.

His green eyes remain locked on Sousuke's, and he is powerless to say anything other than his name as his own frazzled mind races to come up with some sort of plausible explanation for this. Makoto has never thought of himself as a skeptic, he's always kept himself open to the possibility of supernatural or otherworldly existences, but never in his wildest dreams has he ever thought that something like this would ever happen to him.

After all, he thinks of himself as an ordinary human being; there's nothing exceptionally noteworthy or remarkable about him. He's just another boring, run-of-the-mill man who isn't gifted with any sort of mysterious, yet simultaneously miraculous ability that evades the rational laws of science. The power to communicate with the souls of the dead has always been a far off dream for him, one that had seemed even more distant after Sousuke's untimely death. But now, now he really doesn't know what to think.

Sousuke's tender gaze remains fixed on him; he's completely silent, as if he knows that Makoto needs this time to come to grips with the situation. But despite Sousuke's sweet smile, Makoto isn't so sure that he can handle this. For the first time, he begins to wonder if there really is something wrong with him, perhaps it's just as he's always secretly feared, but denied until this very moment. Maybe his mind truly is a victim to some sort of malignant disease that's causing him to hallucinate as a twisted means of self-preservation.

Is this theory even possible? The smallest hint of what Makoto can only assume is what's left of his rationale, kindly tells him this bizarre speculation is complete nonsense, and that he needs to believe in what he's seeing. Desperately clinging to that one bit of hope, Makoto falls silent. He wishes that Sousuke would say something; he needs to hear that voice again.

After several moments of silence, Sousuke's gaze shifts downwards towards the floor. For one abrupt second he scowls menacingly at whatever he sees, before looking back up at Makoto. The gentleness in his eyes was still there, but they've taken on a more somber note.

"Please don't tell me you were really going to do this."

His voice is quiet and calm; it takes on a pleading note that unnerves Makoto to his very core. There is no reason to be afraid, yet Makoto is utterly mortified. An unsettling feeling starts to bubble up in his chest, and for the first time Makoto thinks that he might regret this decision. He has never once considered the thought that Sousuke would turn him away for this; he wasn't even supposed to find out about it until it was too late.

"Don't be mad," Makoto says immediately, as if he fears that Sousuke will grow angry and leave him again. He's not sure of what to do, or even what to say, but he's growing more and more frantic by the minute, and he only knows that he needs this. If this one glimmer of happiness leaves him too, he knows that taking his own life won't be necessary; the vicious combination of heartbreak and utter despair will kill him instead.

Makoto's not sure of what he's saying, really it all sounds like a garbled mess to him, but he's so distraught and feels like he's on the verge of hysteria. He can't control himself right now.

"I tried to…" Makoto trails off; he can't bear to finish that thought.

The unsaid words of 'move on' leave a foul taste in his mouth, and it disgusts him to think that he could or ever would be able to move on from Sousuke. Depending on what happens now, Sousuke's memory may always leave an agonizing imprint on Makoto's heart, like an ulcerous wound that refuses to heal.

He remembers the first few months after he lost Sousuke, he remembers when he actually tried to cope with this tragedy, but he also remembers that the only reason he made an effort at all in the direction of 'moving on' was because his friends had tirelessly insisted that he needed to. They only wanted to see him get better, and deep down he knows that. But he also knows that his friends wanted the happy, carefree Makoto back, and that simply wasn't going to happen. He thinks that Makoto must have died with Sousuke.

His friends don't understand; Makoto's always known that.

"But I couldn't, and I didn't know what else to do…"

Makoto somehow manages to continue on. He's sobbing now; he can hear how pathetic he sounds. He can feel a fresh stream of tears begin to fall down his face; he's no stranger to this sensation, but it always makes him feel weak and miserable. His sense of self-worthlessness always seems to be at its worst when his tears are at their heaviest.

"Life without you is unbearable."

Now things are starting to make sense. At least now he's beginning to convey how horrific the past several months have been for him. Makoto honestly doesn't know if mere words can express the sheer anguish and loneliness he's gone through, and really, there is only one thing he has to say that truly matters.

"Forgive me?" He chokes back a sob and forces himself to hold back more tears. "Please forgive me."

"Makoto." Sousuke finally speaks in a tender voice that Makoto's only heard once or twice before. He lifts a hand and gently caresses the other side of the mirror, as if he's trying to wipe away Makoto's tears. "Even if there was anything to forgive, it's me who should be asking you for forgiveness."

"But Sousuke…"

The words die on Makoto's lips. There is a train of thought there somewhere; there are so many things he wants to say that would deflect the blame away from Sousuke and back towards him, but the look in Sousuke's eyes leaves him speechless. The emotion swimming in his eyes is indescribable, yet Makoto knows that any contradictory statement he says will not sway Sousuke.

"I'm so sorry for leaving you alone like this," Sousuke says after a few moments.

Makoto realizes that he must have been waiting for him to continue his earlier thought, but now, Makoto can't remember what he wanted to say. A goofy smile spreads across his face, and Makoto simply cannot contain himself any longer. For the second time that morning, tears begin to cascade down his puffy cheeks uncontrollably, yet at the same time, Makoto is struggling to remember the last time he was this genuinely happy. He presses his right and against the mirror, wishing he could feel Sousuke's skin and to revel in his touch.

"It's not your fault..." Makoto replies before trailing off again.

"You've always been far too good to me, Makoto." Sousuke smiles as he returns Makoto's gesture by pressing his left again against the glass, at the exact spot that Makoto has his.

"This is for real." Even as he says it, Makoto is still having a difficult time coming to grips with this situation. He had begged and pleaded to any god that would listen, and although it is not exactly how he pictured it, the thought that someone actually saw fit to answer his prayers is surreal.

"It is." The tone Sousuke uses is firm and absolute; it banishes every last trace of doubt that harbors itself within Makoto's mind.

"But how?" Makoto asks suddenly. Now that he can finally accept the fact that Sousuke is here with him, his curious thoughts plague him with every logistical question imaginable. He wishes he could make himself believe without question, but of course nothing can be so simple. "Why now?"

The smile on Sousuke's face falters ever so slightly as he glances away from Makoto. He can't read the expression on Sousuke's face, but to Makoto, it looks like a mixture of pensiveness and some sort of grievance that he doesn't understand.

"What's wrong?" Makoto asks, wanting nothing more than to be able reach through the mirror and embrace Sousuke.

"I don't know, Makoto. I can't give you the answers you need." Sousuke then looks back to Makoto and gives him a soft smile. "I just wish I could have gotten here much sooner."

"You're here now," Makoto replies as he returns Sousuke's smile with a bright grin of his own.

"Sousuke?" His voice suddenly takes on a more timid and insecure tone; he knows he needs to ask this, yet he's terrified of the answer he might receive.

"Hmm?" Sousuke hums softly, urging Makoto to continue.

The humming noise soothes Makoto; he briefly recalls how Sousuke would often respond in that manner, or at least use the tactic to let Makoto know that he was always listening to him. Even with the added comfort, the radiant smile falls from Makoto's lips as his gaze focuses in on Sousuke's.

"Do you have to leave?"

Sousuke lifts a questioning eyebrow at the question, but doesn't say anything. Makoto knows what that means; he knows Sousuke's giving him the chance to explain himself.

"I mean," Makoto pauses for a moment, trying to figure out exactly what it is he needs to say, or rather, how to say it. He takes a deep calming breath before continuing. "I know you're not supposed to be here. I know there must be something wrong somewhere. For some reason you haven't been able to cross over to the afterlife or something, and now you're stuck in a mirror. That's obviously not right, and we need to figure out what's going on here so-"

Makoto's rambling again, and he knows it. He's beyond thankful when Sousuke finally cuts him off.

"Do you want me to stay?"

"More than anything else."

"Then say it. Say it out loud." Despite his strong baritone voice, Makoto can hear it waver ever so slightly, as if Sousuke actually thinks there is a possibility that Makoto could reject him.

"Please, I need to hear you say it."

Makoto doesn't need to be asked twice.

"I want you to stay with me," Makoto says, complying with Sousuke's wish almost immediately. "It's selfish, and horrible of me to say, but I want you with me, Sousuke."

Sousuke smiles warmly as he moves his hand to gently caress the other side of the glass, a gesture that is only meant for Makoto. He knows it's crazy, but somehow, Makoto thinks he can feel the warmth from Sousuke's hand on his face.

"How could I ever refuse you?" he asks rhetorically.

The note of wicked mirth that laces his voice goes unnoticed by Makoto as all of a sudden, his body is overcome with fatigue, and the outrageous amount of sleep debt that Makoto has accumulated over the past several months comes to collect payment. He knows he can't say awake for much longer, but he still fights it for all he's worth.

With the last bit of strength he possesses, Makoto leans into the mirror and presses a gentle kiss against the glass. He hopes that somehow, Sousuke will be able to feel his love through the mirror. Sousuke's eyes are the last thing he sees before finally his body gives into overwhelming exhaustion and he begins to crumple to the floor, the bathroom sink being the only thing that is able to break his fall. The accidental support allows his nearly unconscious body to slump gracelessly onto the tiled floor. Makoto doesn't recognize an ounce of pain, and the discomfort that accompanies such an awkward position goes completely unnoticed.

"Sousuke." Makoto's voice is soft, he wonders if Sousuke can even hear him. "I love you."

With those three words, Makoto's will to stay awake completely leaves him, and at last he falls into a dreamless slumber.

* * *

His cold, indifferent eyes watch Makoto's sleeping form from the other side of the mirror; he studies Makoto, noting his sickly pale skin and malnourished body. The conclusion that Makoto hasn't taken care of himself in far too long is both automatic and accurate, and he can't help but take pride in the fact that he got there in the nick of time. If he had waited a few seconds more, he would have revealed himself to a bloody corpse. And that simply wouldn't do.

A self-satisfied smirk spreads across his face before he turns away from the mirror that allows him to see the world of the living. Right now, his view is severely limited to one, terribly small bathroom, but with a bit of help from Makoto, that can be changed rather easily in due time.

The other side is shrouded in darkness, but he can see perfectly. It's his home after all, nothing is out of the ordinary, except of course, for his newest 'house guest'.

His gaze falls to the ground and drifts through the darkness until his eyes come upon the unfortunate soul whose identity he's taken for his own. It bears the exact same physique as its human body did, however it's now an intangible spirit, trapped here, in the darkness, and wholly invisible to the mundane world.

' _Taken' is such a harsh word really_ , he muses. That implies he had to use some kind of force, which of course, is not the case. The soul had consented to this out of pure desperation, but to him, it doesn't matter. Permission in any form is all it takes.

He watches the soul who's been chained by the darkness of his home with amused eyes; he know it can see him too, but it makes no move to acknowledge his presence. It makes no difference, however. The lack of recognition only fascinates him, and makes him even more interested in the situation he's created for them both.

"He's safe," he says, finally breaking the silence.

The soul opens his eyes, giving him some form of acknowledgment. Its gaze is fixed on the ground beneath them; he'll have to change that soon. He can't explain why, but he's always gotten a sort of twisted gratification from looking into a set of eyes that are physically identical to the ones he's taken, yet emotionally couldn't be any more dissimilar.

"But for how long?" It asks simply.

"No need to be so suspicious." he acts as if he's offended, but the malicious grin that he's sporting says otherwise. He casually strolls towards the soul. "You and I both are bound by contract," he says before bending down to place a hand underneath the soul's jaw. With one firm jerk upwards, their eyes meet each other. They share the same brilliant color of aquamarine, but while one set of eyes is filled with malice and overjoyed with power, the other is awry with pain and irrevocable sorrow.

"You made sure of that." He snickers jovially before letting go of the soul, letting it fall back and be even further enveloped by the dark shadows that contain its being.

He walks away, seemingly satisfied with the torture he has inflicted upon his newest victim for now. As he continues down his new path of interest, the soul speaks. His whisper is carefully hushed and barely audible. It's obvious that the soul doesn't think he can hear it, which entertains him even more.

"I love you too _."_

Oh yes, he's going to enjoy this.

* * *

Thank you for reading! As always, constructive criticism and/or other suggestions for improvement are very much welcome.


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